A Sweep Surprise
NCC Training Arena Within the huge Arena is a smaller section for holo combat, for those who would rather hone their skills than settle a score. Unlike the rest of the arena, this completely-enclosed area is painted with a dull black finish and though completely windowless, it is not opaque. Video screens line the four metal walls in place of windows, allowing observers to watch the display of skill - or lack thereof. Boomslang is hanging out warming the benches while Scourge tries to learn to shoot Blast Off. It is not going well. Blast Off actually yelps softly as he barely manages to avoid the incoming shot. Scourge was missing, but he was catching on and getting closer. Though that's some small reassurance that the Sweep actually paid attention to the things he said. "Of course, there's one other thing to keep in mind." And in a total difference from his usual tactics, Blast Off abruptly dives right towards Scourge and tries to clock him across the face. For as ineffective as it's going to be with his measily physical strength, but it's to prove the point. "Always expect the unconventional!" Combat: Blast Off sets his defense level to Aggressive. Combat: Blast Off strikes Scourge with his Wimpy Sucker Punch (Punch) attack! A third of the stadium's diameter from where Boomslang lolls about, Fusillade sidles in. Leaning forward to prop wrists on the railing, she crosses her ankles and watches Blast Off scurrying about. She mmmphs to herself, surprised to see the pair cooperating. Boomslang raises a hand in silent salute to his often-times strike partner. That was so unlike Blast Off that Scourge truly didn't see it coming. But instead of swiping at him, as he typically would have done, he shoves the barrel of his rifle at his opponents face and fires. "People typically expect anything at all from a Sweep." Combat: Scourge sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Scourge strikes Blast Off with his Laser attack! "Like sucki--- awwww." Fusillade sags a bit as she is denied the chance to needle the Sweep Commander. She juts a black, taloned gauntlet in the air and waves idly. "That's an understatement," remarks Boomslang dryly. Blam! Just like the point he made with the drone earlier of getting too close to dodge, Blast Off is literally blasted off of Scourge again by the shot, and thuds on the floor of the arena a good distance away. "... And this is why I have full facial gear," he mutters to no one by himself, rubbing were there's now a large laser gouge across his mouthguard. "Well now, lets make this finale truly interesting shall we? Apply a little pressure, as it were." Pushing off the ground and into the air, transforming into his shuttle mode. And as he makes a lazy sweep overhead, flashes his sensors across Scourge's form. "If every there's a moment to make that shot truly count...." Combat: Blast Off sets his defense level to Neutral. The Combaticon folds up, yet at the same time expands several times in side, extending wings and engines to become a space shuttle. Combat: Blast Off analyzes Scourge for weaknesses. Canting her head to the side, Fusillade mentally sizes up Blast Off's shuttle form. Urgh, what a horrid shade of brown. She makes a mental note to have the mech choose another color, and watches anxiously as he winds up for... oh could it be? "Please oh please oh pleaseOhPleaseOhPlease," she begins murmuring in hopes of an orbital strike, saffron optics alight with glee at the idea of being able to witness one. Now, just what of range in altitude COULD the holographic suite simulate? Smirking as that blast strikes home, Scourge watches Blast Off transform and rise into the air, and he knows precisely what's coming. A tactic he uses quite frequently, himself. Analyze the target for weak points, and make your shot truly count. But he's not going to let that shot fall, as he powers his rifle to full and again takes aim on the now shuttle, and grins. It's always easier to hit a vehicle. They can't /quite/ do as much, but at the same time, they can do more maneuvering. So really, it's a trade-off. Taking his time, he watches, waiting for the right moment, and then fires. "Yes, let's make it interesting." Combat: Scourge sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Scourge misses Space Shuttle with his Laser Blaster attack! Fusillade melts into peals of laughter. Boomslang shakes his head disapprovingly. "As a shuttle? Too bad. Now he's going to fry you." And as the Sweep fires his bigger laser Blast Off finishes his scans and pulls out of the way, banking to the side of the blast and shifting to the side. The laser skims one of his wings, but it's a bare miss instead of a near hit in the end. "Almost a shame I can't get full altitude in here," lamenets the combaticon as he lifts up higher, angling his position to aim back towards Scourge. "But it shall suffice." So it's not a full scale blast, but the energy output from his dual cannons is quite bright and brilliant none the less, the blue sheen irradiating just before them. Combat: Space Shuttle sets his defense level to Aggressive. Combat: Space Shuttle strikes Scourge with his Orbital Bombardment Laser attack! -3 Well, there wasn't any way he was going to avoid /that/ blast. Partially melted now, thanks to the sheer intensity of that beam, Scourge howls in pain and immediately takes to the air. Transforming, he's not going to let /that/ hit go without some measure of 'revenge'. Most people wouldn't expect a half-crippled Sweepcraft to ram them, right? But that is exactly what Scourge intends to do, as he rockets into the air on a collision course with Blast Off. Leaping into the air, the traditional sounds of transforming splitting the air, Scourge twists as his body folds into a nasty looking Sweepcraft. Combat: Sweep Spacecraft strikes Space Shuttle with his Intercept attack! Combat: Space Shuttle falls to the ground, unconscious. Fusillade puckers hematite lips, and pulls down her amber goggles to shield her optics. Emitting a low whistle to herself, she shakes her head, grinning. A moment later, she ducks her head, as if trying to avoid drawing attention to herself, and begins shimmying over to where she last saw Boomslang. "Ahh," sighs Boomslang as Blast Off gets taken out by one big hit, a little disappointed at this turn of events. "That's the Blast Off we know and love." He was clearly rooting for the upset. Fusillade mmms. "Don't be so surprised, Boomslang. Although if he bolstered his shuttle form to be more durable, I think he'd be quite the opponent. Even just getting some space hardening would help." ... Oh, slag. It takes a few moments for Blast Off to switch from powering those cannons and just holding his position to putting the power back into his engines, and its in those few moments that despite being bombarded Scourge comes flying up to say hello. Intentionally grabbing a weak moment or just sheer luck, it gets the job done. And smash right into him. With as yowl as the side of the shuttle crunchs inwards from the impact, Blast Off lurching in the other direction and rumbling away to crash down towards the ground in a nice flaming wreck. That ought to make Scourge feel a little better at least. Even if it is just a simulation, that's a very NICE looking simulation of a crash. ".... oow...." Sweep Spacecraft snarls at the pain of impacting Blast Off, compounding the already incredible simulated pain he's still experiencing from the melting he recieved only moments before. Transforming once again, and slowly settling back to the ground, he sends the command for the simulator to 'reset' him and growls. Looking towards Fusillade, who /laughed/ at him, he smirks. "I suppose you believe you could hit him consistently? And not be hit?" Turning as it approaches, the Sweepcraft seems to split in places, the arms and legs of a robot emerging, then the demonic wings unfurl and the menacing visage of Scourge makes it's appearance, completing the transformation from Sweepcraft to robot. Combat: Scourge resets himself. Combat: Blast Off resets himself. The shuttle unfolds as its size compresses down to form layers of armor, wings folding up as limbs and a head emerge, and Blast Off now stands hauntily in robot mode. "Well in MY case, pack leader, I'd just need to hit him, once. And let me tell you? I can hit all night long. But frankly, I'd rather GO on missions and commit wholesale genocide and flatten cities TOGETHER with him." Fusillade steps away from Boomslang, and begins oozing down the stairwell toward the arena floor. Once the simulation ends Blast Off unfolds (or in same ways its folds, since he gets smaller) back into robot mode. "Well that certainly turned out to be a rather rousing spar in the end," he murmurs somewhat coolly, rubbing his head as he gets up.... and sees people are already picking more fights. Not really a surprise, but he makes a quicky but faux causal withdrawl to the stands to see how -this- turns out. Scourge sneers at Fusillade, sorely tempted to just blast her for the insolence, but he refrains...For the moment. "Had this been more than a training excercise, he would have fallen /long/ before you even arrived. Or did you think me so weak that I could not even take the fragile Blast Off and turn him to slag?" "IF for the purposes of honing your targeting skills, Scourge, then yes, I would say you chose properly by compelling one of my officers to dance for you. Just out of curiousity though, I wonder how long it will be before you're squaring off with FE-male Autobot medics." Fusillade smirks cruelly, continuing to step forward. "If the trackin' business is a bit SLOW for you and yours right now, before sure to give me a call. I'll be sure to get you something GOOD. Way I hear it? Retoris Tunnel could use some lovin'." Chuckling as Fusillade comes down towards the arena floor, Scourge smirks and again forces himself to refrain from simply blasting the insolence from the bomber. "Terminate their medics, and the rest will have to make do with the scraps the Junkion's repair them with. I make /your/ job easier by doing that." Ignoring, or so it would seem, the goading statement about Retoris Tunnel, the Sweep leader waits for the bomber to make her way fully to the arena floor. Fusillade's feet halt, four steps above the floor. "Scourge? If you ever feel the need? I'll be waiting for you. Outside. Where it counts." Fusillade gives the Sweep Commander a barracuda smile. Boomslang looks on with some interest. Although he's had his turn with Scourge, he's never seen Scourge and Fusillade go head to head. Blast Off just watchs the two of them coolly from the stands. Someone actually challenging a fight -outside- the simulations? That takes either ball bearings, or insanity. Possibly both considering the likes that make up much of the population of this faction... Scourge laughed and sneered at Fusillade, and took a quick glance around the arena, then started for the door. "If you want a lesson in who's your better, Fusillade, then I will gladly oblige." His words practically drip with the anticipation of rending another's armor. Skies above Central America Breathtaking deserts, the megalopolis of Mexico City, and stunning beaches lie wide open for exploration if Transformers dare descend. The Central American nations have kept their teeth after the Militants' departure. Regular patrols by the Mexican Militia try but don't necessarily succeed in ensuring that Autobots are on their best behavior and that Decepticons stay out entirely. Lush mountain rainforests nestle about the Panama Canal. For the most part, flying weather tends to be predictable in a tropical sort of way. Closer to the equator, cumulus clouds dump plenty of rain, spiced up by the summer hurricanes that sometimes flounder into the Yucatan Peninsula. Shockwave says, "Let all who hear this message know that Huntsman Scourge has challenged Executrix Fusillade in ritual combat within the open arena of Tetrahex, formerly New Crystal City, without benefit of simulation or falsity. Let the victor be honored and the victim reviled." Blast Off says, "And that makes it officially sanctioned. Feel free to mutilate each other horribly now." Shockwave says, "The die has been cast and the location of the duel decided. Let all Decepticons cast their eyes to the sky above Central America, there to give witness." Combat: Suddenly, Boomslang appears out of fat air! With the usual ratcheting sound, Boomslang spins and flips and turns into a fighter jet. "Smelt, word gets out fast," Fusillade remarks in annoyance at her (creepy) mentor's decree. "What a nosey... hey..." Her thoughts very quickly race to the possibility of monitoring or SPYING from the Cyclops, since he had a hand (literally, just A hand) in many of her upgrades. Frowning some, she dismisses it for now, and turns her attention to the task at hand. Pulling out both wingblades, she furls them out prettily, like dancing fans, and gives Scourge an overly obsequious, mid-air bow. Blast Off finds a comfortable spot hopefully what will be out of range of the fighting, you never know when lasers and missiles start flying, and just hovers there with his arms crossed and as indifferent demeanored as ever. Despite having a rather drawn interest in the fight to come, but he's got to keep his usual private defenses up. Rising into the air above Tetrahex, Scourge flexes his clawed hands and smirks. Watching Fusillade bow, he doesn't bother returning the 'niceties' and instead opens fire, his Head Laser charging and letting out a blast of high-heat laser fire. "You are a fool to challenge me, Fusillade." Nobody ever said the Sweeps weren't dirty fighters, after all. Combat: Scourge sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Scourge misses Fusillade with his Head Laser attack! -2 Word of such a spectacle spreads fast, especially when broadcasted over half the galaxy. Among the rubberneckers and other gawkers is Redshift, arriving in robot mode and taking a place near some of the other observers, floating in mid-air to watch what will surely be an exciting bout. Boomslang circles overhead at a safe distance (below would be less safe), watching the duel with some interest. Fusillade has traditionally been an underdog in this sort of thing, but she has spunk, and the possibility of her defeating Scourge is excitingly apparent. A flare of cyan colored afterburner exhaust erupts from Fusillade's double-thrustered heels, as she maneuvers away from the incoming shot. With a supple twist of her spine armor, Fusillade rears back midair, raising one of the bared wingblade edges. The shot from Scourge is well-aimed, and DOES connect -- but it is at such an oblique angle to her raised, defensive surface, that it ricochets harmlessly off into the wild blue yonder. "Foolish? If you wish to think so. I just.. . want, NEED to know my limits, Commander. All the better to SERVE the Empire... THANK you for the opportunity for me to flex. No harm if you defeat me, correct? You get to establish dominance, and I will be able to KNOW, at the very least, what my physical limits are." She grins lopsidedly, wingblades scissoring about herself in a dervish-like swirl and flourish, before presenting the muzzle of her nickel plated, Desert-Eagle styled disruptor at the Sweep Commander. Two thick bolts of focused argon laser light lance out toward Scourge. Combat: Fusillade strikes Scourge with her Rule #2: Always Double-Tap (Laser) attack! Decepticon Shuttle isn't actually here at first to witness the fight. He's just returning from another deep space cargo run taking supplies to one of those many many mining outposts spread out there amongst the stars. Hey the Decepticons don't get -all- their materials from Earth, right? With his cargo bay empty again, the triplechanger was returning at a leisurely pace while secretly tuning into some of Earth's local music stations. That's right, he listens in now and then! But he does so reeeal quietly, only on his internal radio. "`Cause I'd get a thousand hugs. From ten thousand lightning bugs. As they tried to teach me how to da...WHAT THE FRAG!?" This is what happens when you fly blind into a combat zone, as a few stray shots snap past his front viewport, sending the big shuttle weebling and wobbling off course before he swings about, sensors scanning for the source. "Okay who's TAILPIPE do I have to kick to..." And then he picks up that it's Fusillade and Scourge having at it. "...yeah okay this ain't somethin you see everyday." Blast Off just rolls his optics behind his visor a bit at Astrotrain's loud arrival. "Someone's finally doing his job," muttered under his breath, and resumes folding his arms and just hovering where he is. "Sit back Astrotrain, watch the fireworks and oil-lust, it should be entertaining regardless of the outcome." Arrogance. It has been Scourge's downfall on many occasions, and could very well lead to a fall here, as well, but it takes a lot more than a twin blast from an argon laser to do that. The shoulder struck by those blasts blackens and scorches, the armor taking the majority of the damage, and the Sweep chuckles. "You are quite correct, Fusillade." Drawing his rifle from subspace, the Sweep levels it and lets fly an acid ray. Weaken the armor, and the opponent will fall quickly. Combat: Scourge misses Fusillade with his Acid Ray attack! A cloud drifts through the skies. It looks vaguely like a man's smiling face. But as the cloud rolls through the sky, it begins to dissipate, its original form twisting into nothingness, which then fades away... revealing Galvatron. Seemingly standing on an invisible floor, he has his arms crossed as he watches the fight expressionlessly. As Galvatron arrivse, Redshift mouths the words 'oh crap' and tries to hide behind the nearest Decepticon. Combat: Redshift misses Blast Off with his oh crap hide me (Grab) attack! -FSHING!!!- Yet again, Fusillade's efforts with Vendetta pay off, and her parrying skills save her from a very nasty attack that would have done great damage to her ceramic tile are foiled. With a nasty laugh, she rechambers the blades, pulling them about her like an ornate display of petals. "Damned right I'm right," she coos out at Scourge, feeling more confident after having tagged the Sweep Leader with her beloved sidearm. With a wicked grin, she ups the ante -- four-fold. A roiling plume of smoke envelops her as she laughs sharply, "Well, THANK YOU for indulging me!" she shouts out over the roaring trail from the missile that's deployed from her chest -- yes, boob-rockets -- at Scourge. The checkerboard patterned warhead streaks toward her rather worthy adversary. Thus far, she isn't aware of Galvatron's looming presence... Combat: Fusillade sets her defense level to Aggressive. Combat: Fusillade strikes Scourge with her Medium Range Missiles attack! Combat: Used up 1 Missiles. 1 remain. Combat: Redshift misses Blast Off with his oh crap hide me (Grab) attack! "He can't take it there!" exclaims Boomslang, banking to get a good view of the impact from thirty thousand feet. Decepticon Shuttle banks about the combat area, circling once before coming back again. "Hey I been doin this job fer longer than you been a thought, buddy-boy! Shouldn't you be off babysittin yer leader, or is he plannin another stupid coup attempt?" He finally comes to a halt, hovering in place before he too transforms, rifle over one shoulder as he eyes the proceedings. "So what's this all about anyway?" he mutters, jerking a thumb in the direction of the two combatants. In a chorus of shifting and spinning parts, Astrotrain's body spins and lifts up into his large robot mode. Getting slammed into by that missile was a bad thing. The explosion ripping through Scourge's frame, he snarls and flips end over end for a moment, before transforming and bringing himself back under control. Turning, he growls in pain, anger, and general annoyance and activates his scanners, sweeping over Fusillade's form and adopting a somewhat more conservative defensive state. Combat: Scourge sets his defense level to Protected. Leaping into the air, the traditional sounds of transforming splitting the air, Scourge twists as his body folds into a nasty looking Sweepcraft. Combat: Scourge analyzes Fusillade for weaknesses. Blast Off ughs and half-heartedly shoves Redshift away again. "If you came up here to watch, you can risk the stray fire the same as the rest of us." He has no idea its from Galvatron the red one is hiding from, nore does her really care. "You have, and you can -have- it," Blast Off retorts to Astrotrain, still sour at all the times he's been stuck doing the hauling instead. But after that the sneer in his voice is gone and its back to its usual indifference. "Fusillade challenged Scourge to an honor duel. Without the simulation arena." Combat: Blast Off strikes Redshift with his Mind the personal space! (Grab) attack! Catechism has come to see the gods in the arena, to see blood, sweat, and tears become the score. She only regrets that her guard duty shift kept her so long. Someone could be dead by now, for all she knows! She takes a spot in the back, behind some of the shorter spectators. Galvatron's optics narrow after Fusillade hits Scourge with those missiles. He doesn't say anything--he's just looming, perhaps quietly evaluating. "Pfft." Astrotrain states, still floating in place oh so casually. "Problem with you newcomers to the haulin game is you got no imagination. Think about it, ya haul cargo back and forth but ya got all kinds of opportunities to take little side trips here and there. The rest of the muckheads try to scrabble fer time off so they can go on vacation, when us deep-space times can take a quick detour anytimes we want on our way back." As the reason for the fight is explained, he simply grunts. "Feh, must be borin around here lately. Not enough Autobots to thrash so we start thrashin each other." "Whoo-hoo!" Fusillade laughs in merriment, emboldened by the two hits, one major, on Scourge. This was for real, and for a prize better than any sort of money -- this was for bragging rights. Fusillade schools herself, and applies caution when she notices Scourge is delaying his attack. With a savvy 'hmmmm' to herself, she reholsters her Desert Eagle, and then pulls out her wingblades again, ready for an encore performance of her earlier contortions that have saved her so far. The other spacers that have arrived don't go unnoted, but she doesn't spare the energy for now to acknowledge them -- this battle was going to need to ride on CONSISTENT application of skill and wariness. At least this match would be entertaining, if not painful... she snaps off a medium powered bolt of angry plasma at the Sweep Commander, testing his limits... Combat: Fusillade sets her defense level to Guarded. Combat: Fusillade's Plasma Caster attack on Sweep Spacecraft goes wild! Combat: Fusillade misses Blast Off with her Plasma Caster attack! Combat: Used up 1 Plasma Shells. 7 remain. Sweep Spacecraft laughs derisively when Fusillade fires off that wild burst of plasma and would smirk, if his face were visible. "It appears that perhaps your eagerness to take /me/ down is hurting you, Fusillade." Watching his opponent, he has picked his mark, and as he rolls and weaves in his flight pattern to better avoid any more missiles (Those things /hurt/), he activates his advanced targeting system, to properly aim his next shot. Patience is a great virtue sometimes...Of course, sometimes it only hurts more. Which will it be in this case? Combat: Sweep Spacecraft takes extra time to aim his next attack. "No, it is simply a matter that it is neither my design nor my designation," Blast Off replies crisply to Astrotrain. And then leans back as he fires his foot thrusters to dodge the bolt of plasma that comes hurtling past them without breaking a proverbial sweat. "Now if you don't mind, I'd rather enjoy the fight than listen to more of your blathering." He refolds his arms... though a bit more wary of just what's flying around out there. Oh, wouldn't it be entertaining if one of them managed to hit Galvatron by accident... then again, he'd probably cannon ALL of them, so maybe not so amusing after all... Combat: Blast Off sets his defense level to Protected. Catechism's head whiplashes around to watch as Blast Off almost becomes extra crispy. She grins - oh sure, Blast Off's a fine guy, and she doesn't wish him ill any more than anyone else, but fights get way more interesting when they get /messy/. Galvatron makes an odd face as Scourge again delays his attack. He shifts about on his invisible perch, as if what he sees is starting to bother him. Boomslang swoops down and transforms near the other observers (the other observers other than Galvatron), hovering there with his antigravity generators humming. "Glad that one didn't come my way." "Pft, aren't we testy? Whatsamatter, ain't linked up with the rest of yer Combaticon thinktank in awhile?" Even though he wasn't in the blast path, Astrotrain also glides a little to the side to make sure he's out of an immediate blast radius for any stray shots. Or so he hopes anyway. Combat: Astrotrain sets his defense level to Protected. The bolt goes wide after Scourge evades, but Fusillade doesn't pay much attention to the gout of sizzling superionized material's pathway after it fails to hit Scourge. "It'll hurt, a little," Fusillade concedes. "Scrapper and Scavenger did good work on me though, after I got ATOMIZED. I'm not.. particularly frightened though. Even if I should be." There's a wicked giggle from her, and she begins to wind up, "Now, hold still." She unloads yet ANOTHER missile, digging into that normally bottomless supply of firepower within her gut, making herself an easy target in the process. Combat: Fusillade sets her defense level to Fearless. Combat: Fusillade misses Sweep Spacecraft with her Medium Range Missiles attack! Combat: Used up 1 Missiles. 0 remain. His tactics in evasion seem to be working. Scourge does a quick barrel roll to avoid the incoming missile, and then angles in on Fusillade. "Indeed, their work is well-done. You are a worthy opponent." Charging his disintegrator, he chuckles as he angles in on Fusillade, his targeting systems locked onto a small area, where the armor is thinner, along the path where her cockpit settles into her chest. A brilliant beam of energy lances out from his foreward section as his disintegrator beam fires. Combat: Sweep Spacecraft strikes Fusillade with his Disintegrator Beams attack! -2 Combat: You took 10 damage. Combat: Sweep Spacecraft 's attack severely damages your armor! Scourge says, "And there goes about half of my energon. lol" Galvatron claps slowly, mouth upturned a bit. "About time, Scourge. I though perhaps you were waiting for Fusillade to give you *permission* to fire upon her. Well. Speaking of her, I wonder how she fared." That last bit was mostly said to himself as he squints at the B-1 Lancer. "Oooh, good shot," remarks Boomslang in Catechism's direction, with a wince. K-chow! The disinetegration beam hits home, eating away fiercely at Fusillade's cockpit. She grunts audibly, curling about her stomach. Was this the wisely applied stroke that would turn the tide of battle?! Fusillade's left optic twitches at the edge of her saffron orbs, and with a gurgle, she clutches her midriff. "Well," she gasps out, "That's one way to lose a few pounds. But yet... strangely attracting!" She giggles a bit, before finally catching sight of Galvatron. "Lord, please bear with me. I hope you have no ill-will toward me for toying with your brethern..." With a wobbly palm, she raises her hand again and charges the magnetic coils that feed her wingblade recall systems, and sends another gout of focused energy and magnetism the Sweep's way. Combat: Fusillade sets her defense level to Neutral. Combat: Fusillade's Plasma Caster attack on Sweep Spacecraft goes wild! Combat: Fusillade strikes Galvatron with her Plasma Caster attack! Combat: Used up 1 Plasma Shells. 6 remain. Catechism drifts a bit closer to Boomslang, because it is a proven fact that when Seekers of a similar design cluster together, the chances of any given one of them being noticed drops, and given that Galvatron is around, that's a good thing. She nods and remarks, "Took him a while to set up the shot, though. If it had missed - ooooh, slag." Her optics go wide. Astrotrain says, "And we never heard from Fusillade again." Fusillade :C "Aww, 5#!T!!!!" Fusillade gurgles out. Blast Off smirks a bit behind his mouthguard as some of the 'pointers' he was giving the Sweep commander earlier seem to be paying off.... And then the unseen expression fades when Fusillade's attack goes wide in the LAST direction it should of gone wide in. Uh oh... "Looks like that was gonna happen sooner or later..." Astrotrain states, watching as Fusillade is struck hard by Scourge's prepared shot, though she's still upright, it obviously looks like it hurt a lot. "Course the big question is, can she keep it u..." He trails off then as the counterattack goes wild and... ...oooh smeg. "See!?" He states, turning towards Blast off, Boomslang, Catechism et al, as he proceeds to point towards the direction of the faux pas that has just been comitted. "THAT'S why you'd never catch me dead with one of them unpredictable type weapons!" Galvatron was about to reply to Fusillade with some witty banter when the plasma bolt slaps into his chest. Galvatron's mouth just hangs open, staring incredulously at the rather impressive hole put into his chest. Fusillade -SCREAMS- and begins flying away. ".. At least -that- we agree on, Astrotrain," Blast Off remarks dryly. And is so ready to transform and FLY LIKE HELL should the cannon blasts start flying. "Devil to pay and no pitch hot," comments Boomslang, head turning to watch Fusillade zooming away to a safe distance. "Oooh she shouldn't run away like that." Astrotrain observes. "That's just gonna make it worse. Better she just sit quiet and take it." Catechism transforms into her jet mode, hovering up, not fleeing yet, but making it easy on herself if the situation get rough. Yes, Scourge is here, but she can't count on Galvatron to cannon the Sweep. Though not so unlucky as Sweeps, Seekers are also prime cannoning targets when things go wrong, and Boomslang can fragging turn himself invisible if things get hot. Catechism transforms to her jet mode, which is quite astoundingly simple for the coneheaded model that she is. Combat: Boomslang activates his cloaking field and vanishes from sight! Boomslang hides. His laughter almost a cackling as his shot strikes home and then the return fire swings wide of him, to hit GALVATRON? He transforms and sneers at Fusillade, keeping his distance for the moment, on the chance that Galvatron would be bringing that beautiful cannon to bear on the source of that wild shot. He had planned on closing to melee distance, and ripping into her with his claws, but instead, he raised his rifle and chuckled, answering Galvatron in the process. "Patience in combat is sometimes a boon. It allows one to properly assess a target and aim at their weakest points." As he finishes speaking, he takes his shot at the fleeing Fusillade. "Running cannot help you, Fusillade." Turning as it approaches, the Sweepcraft seems to split in places, the arms and legs of a robot emerging, then the demonic wings unfurl and the menacing visage of Scourge makes it's appearance, completing the transformation from Sweepcraft to robot. Combat: Scourge sets his defense level to Neutral. Combat: Scourge misses Fusillade with his Laser Blaster attack! XF-35B Astral Lightning knew Boomslang was going to do that, slaggit! Galvatron manages to compose himself, pressing his lips into a line. "Fusillade," he says with eerie calmness. "*Finish the fight.*" His head turns slowly towards Scourge. "For some reason, I'm finding patience in short supply as of late. Stop playing around and shoot her down!" Fusillade gesticulates helplessly at Galvatron, and eventually blurts out, "Enoy the show, Emperor!!! I will use better weapons, BY YOUR COMMAND!!!" The rigid salute she tosses his way changes her posture and location, causing Scourge's well-aimed shot to sizzle just past her skidplate. With an audible gulp, she twists mid-air towards the Sweep, "Welp, you heard the bossman. Let's make this look good!" She joins Scourge in zooming around, taking to her larger, and better armed form with a thunderous, 160 decibel burst of afterburners. The Lancer, whose cockpit was ruined by the Sweep's attack on her robot mode, forgoes her nose-cone mounted lasers and disruptors. The seams of her glossy white belly split open, and a rotary launcher loaded with obscenely shaped and sized bombs and missiles emerges. A guided set of modified JDAMs emerge as the large aircraft screams overhead to gain altitude in the dizzying heights of the stratosphere. A few seconds later, her latches release, sending death whistling down toward Scourge. Fusillade leans forward, wingblades whipping out to their full span, even as her arms lock backward in place as the rear fuselage. Her torso folds out to the become the cockpit of a space capable B-1R Lancer, ready for flight! Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer sets her defense level to Aggressive. Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer misses Scourge with her Bombs attack! Combat: Used up 1 Bombs. 3 remain. XF-35B Astral Lightning does not transform back to robot mode, and she remains wary. Galvatron... calm? Maybe the calm before the storm! Catechism doesn't trust it. She does ooh and aah over the explosions - they're pretty, even if they don't connect! Now there's some serious firepower. Galvatron found his patience in short supply? When did he /really/ have patience? No matter, as Scourge was planning not to shoot her down, but to tear her apart anyway. Sneering up at Fusillade as she transforms to drop her bombs, he easily evades the falling projectiles and immediately soars upwards to close the distance between them. "Yes, let us finish this." He rasps as he moves to tear into one of the bomber's wings. Combat: Scourge sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Scourge misses Space-Going B-1R Lancer with his Clawed Assault attack! Galvatron glares daggers at the both of the combatants. "So you people can hit ME just fine, but not each other? I see what's going on here..." he growls. Astrotrain just facepalms as he floats off to the side and keeps observing. "Maybe with all the wind the rest of us will just blow away over the horizon." The roar of fierce maneuvers echoes over the walls of Tetrahex as Fusillade and Scourge duke it out. Despite a few sloppy mishaps earlier, Fusillade is finding that most Decepticons are intrigued, or perhaps amused, into granting her leniency. No matter the outcome, she will know just where she lies on the Decepticon food chain, and being able to brag about surviving an otherwise foolhardy challenge to Scourge in of itself was quite the prize. The hundred and fifty foot bomber, with its sleek supersonic curves and wildly powerful engines, manages to avoid the vicious clawed swipe of the more nimble, agile Scourge. "Well, I'm happy to oblige," she aspirates breathlessly over her comm. "Fifi, FETCH!" she commands. A cruise missile, nearly fifteen feet in length and armed with its own engine and wings, stirs to life within her belly, before dropping out into air and swimming eagerly to the Sweep. Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer sets her defense level to Fearless. Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer strikes Scourge with her Fifi Cruise Missile attack! Combat: Used up 1 GBU-27s. 1 remain. "Noooooo, Fifi!!!" The bomber wails. Fusillade says, "Fifi, NOOOOOOOOOOO!" "I so don't like where this is going," Blast Off murmurs mostly to himself. And then... just... facepalms. "And this womech has -rank- of all people...." Fusillade says, "At least you found fulfillment in detonation." Fulcrum says, "Have you been naming your bombs again, Fusillade?" Fusillade says, "... yes?" Blast Off tchs. "Naming of projectiles, when their only purpose is to be destroyed in the process of the destruction of our enemies? What a waste of time." XF-35B Astral Lightning wavers a bit as she hovers. Oh no oh no oh no - is Galvatron going to go on another paranoid jag and tear someone in half? She's still not sure if Redshift ever found his legs! Then, one of Fusillade's endearingly named cruise missiles (after all, they are smarter than most Decepticons) slams into Scourge, and Catechism whoops - explosions! She shoots a glare over at Blast Off and shouts, "Hey, you! When is the last time you blew up a city?" Fusillade, defensively: "It was a cruise missile! It has its own wings and thrusters! It's almost one of us!" Fulcrum says, "Oh good, for a moment I thought you'd stuffed a canine with tnt." Catechism says, "Don't be silly. They're not very aerodynamic." Blast Off says, "... Would be a lot more amusing, though." Boomslang says, "That's more for anti-tank mines." Catechism says, "Now /penguins/ might be okay, but they're kinda small... hmm, maybe medium sized whales." Fulcrum says, "No armor penetration." Catechism says, "Not like dogs have armour penetration, either!" Fulcrum says, "Hmm.. but birds.. if there was some way to attract them. Sonics? Then attach it to a magnetic device, or even just a free-flying one" Fulcrum says, "Bird Strike In A Can." Blast Off says, "Dogs are better used against Autobots, anyways. They seem to dislike when one expels its post consumption waste material upon their tires." Catechism says, "....ugh! That is gross and horrible! Now test it on the Aerialbots." You paged Scourge with 'I am sorry your connection is so buggy. :/ Your poses have been great so far. Thanks for indulging me with Fusi's trash talking.' Scourge (scrg) pages: A lot of people trash talk Scourge. Hehe. But so far, you're the only one that's survived the 'retaliation'. lol The combat code has not been kind to me lately, and all these thorough thrashings I've been getting have only been helping me prove that Scourge is /so/ not up-to-par with the way he should be. Kinda hard to hunt down and terminate Autobots, when almost anyone can kick his aft. Hehe. You paged Scourge with 'Fusi is nasty.' You paged Scourge with 'She has over 1000 AP in her.' You paged Scourge with 'I just don't do combat RP with her often.' You paged Scourge with 'She is sassy and fun and people like RPing with her and doing what she says' You paged Scourge with 'So she doesn't have to fight often.' Scourge watches his opponent flying off, and somehow, though the how is rather unknown, he can't seem to dodge a 15 foot missile?! The explosion tears through him, his systems registering warnings, which he ignores as he again transforms, and snarls in rage, accelerating directly towards the massive bomber. It looks suspiciously like he intends to ram Fusillade....Which is exactly what he intends. Sure, it's gonna hurt him, as well, but pain is something that Scourge can easily ignore. With a low, gutteral and animalistic growl, the Sweepcraft streaks towards it's target. Leaping into the air, the traditional sounds of transforming splitting the air, Scourge twists as his body folds into a nasty looking Sweepcraft. You paged Scourge with 'But she does have attitude and if Scourge beats her well that's what she gets for biting off more than she can chew. :)' Combat: Sweep Spacecraft sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Sweep Spacecraft strikes Space-Going B-1R Lancer with his Intercept attack! -2 Combat: You took 6 damage. Scourge says, "That was the last of my energon. :(" Fusillade says, "Aww hun. :/" Catechism says, "Globals are your friends. So is pulling to level 1 and turning off energon-using effects. So is ammo." You paged Scourge with 'You should get in touch with Boomslang OOCly to get him to teach you how to use the combat system better.' You paged Scourge with 'A lot of this has nothing to do with stats and a lot to do with how savvy you are with using the combat system' Scourge says, "It's the 'overpowered' on the disintegrator. 29 base, plus the overpowered. If Fusi hadn't hit me with /two/ attacks for 26 damage each, I wouldn't have used it at all, and I'd still have plenty of energon." Galvatron just snorts. "Fifi. Ridiculous. You actually feel empathy for a cruise missile's guidance system? That's..." His face goes blank. "...*interesting.*" He rubs his chin, considering the possibilities. Scourge (scrg) pages: When almost all my attacks miss, it doesn't matter how well I use the system. My problems are almost entirely stat-related. Long distance to Scourge: Fusillade likes your RP though. You're one of the best Scourge's I've seen. You paged Scourge with 'Seriously, talk to Boomer tomorrow or some other time.' You paged Scourge with 'Also, Catechism is having another combat system class.' You paged Scourge with 'Page her with times and dates that are good for you to attend? :)' Scourge (scrg) pages: The problem with Scourge in combat isn't the way I use the combat system. It's me being unlucky with the code, and the stat's not being where they really should be for Scourge. I usually have no problems, except with not being able to hit, which is code/stats. So I'll guarantee it's not the way I use the combat system. Boomslang snorts, invisibly. He loves his munitions too, but he wouldn't NAME them. Not out loud, anyhow. Certainly not where anyone can overhear him. Maybe just in his hangar. You paged Scourge with 'Well go anyway, and raise that point to Catechism. Perhaps after she tries to troubleshoot, she will accept that.' Blast Off, having experienced that ram earlier in the training sims, winces a bit. Fortunately since the mouthplate and visor covers his face completely no one else can see it. He mutters something under his breath about the naming of missiles being equated to unhinged as Vortex naming his torture tools. XF-35B Astral Lightning does so envy a good ram, and she cheers. Ah, to be built for that kind of brutality! There's something satifyingly visceral about it all. Galvatron looking thoughtful worries her, but at this rate, Galvatron could do anything, and Catechism would be worried. She is hovering on the outskirts, in the audience of the fight. Combat: Suddenly, Boomslang appears out of thin air! Boomslang reappears near the other seekers once another one shows up, so that he has generic safety in generic numbers. A plume of shattered ceramic tile rains down on the arid mountains of Central Mexico below as Scourge reams Fusillade along her left fuselage. An outraged shriek escapes the bomber as the soapdish deigns to violate her airspace. Several warning klaxons begin ringing out as a few structural systems are weakened, but the bomber is saved by her (embarrassingly) exponentially greater mass. Dipping a slender wing to wrench herself free, she once again kicks in military thrust, vying with the Sweep to gain altitude. Once she is satisfied at her air superiority, she drops down an air baffle on her middle weapons bay store, and lays a half-dozen eggs on Scourge's head. She is prone to do so when scared. Cluck-cluck. Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer sets her defense level to Fearless. Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer strikes Sweep Spacecraft with her Bombs attack! Combat: Sweep Spacecraft falls to the ground, unconscious. Combat: Used up 1 Bombs. 2 remain. Which might be either Catechism or Comcast, depending on which transforms first (if Comcast appears at all). Space-Going B-1R Lancer poops out bombs. :( XF-35B Astral Lightning transforms oblidgingly, as /most/ of the danger seems to have passed, now that Fusillade and Scourge are properly murdering each other. Perhaps it will lure out some other Seekers, because standing in a generic group of three is the best thing of all! XF-35B Astral Lightning transforms into robot form. Catechism's feet unfold, her arms unfold out of her body, her nosecone rotates through her body and ends up on her shoulders to expose her face, and her wings rotate into position. Galvatron doesn't comment at first. "Hm. So." He watches Scourge fall from the sky. "You defeated Scourge, Fusillade. You deserve some sort of reward... don't you?" A voice from among the anonymous seekers suggests, "Leadership of the Sweeps?" Galvatron's optics narrow to slits. "Nothing so... quaint." Space-Going B-1R Lancer kicks engines over to idling, not transforming just yet. She sweeps her wings back, slicking them along her airframe as she loiters about the skyways. "I... not really, Emperor? I was not quite expecting him to call my bluff and do this outside the arena," she admits. The aircraft barrel-rolls suddenly, jinking to the left before blurting out, "SHUT UP WHOEVER THAT WAS!!!" Space-Going B-1R Lancer hastily suggests, unaware of the earlier interactions between Galvatron and Doubledealer, "SO I was thinking, Cybertron's been pretty quiet lately, maybe we should go mess around Iahex. Like... the Retoris Tunnel, perhaps, my Liege?" Blast Off huhs as Scourge gets bombed out of the sky. Then again, Fusillade does turn into a bomber. "Well that was certainly an interesting end to the event.." Galvatron doesn't lift a finger to help Scourge. "Iahex, eh? If you want to, go ahead! Be my guest. But.... about the reward." He raises up his cannon. "Hm. Still feeling a little *sore* about earlier. But, being shot will do that." The sleek bomber rears up, wings collapsing onto hips even as the rear fuselage splits to form arms. The horizontal stabilizer slides up, the forward fuselage folds up accordian style, and Fusillade hops up on thrustered feet. Fusillade draws near to Galvatron, powering down her weapons in the process. "This is true, my lord. I apologized once I realized my shots went astray, and transitioned to more reliable weapons. It should not have happened at all; however I cannot recall that errant shot. I grew weary of the mental laxness induced by the training arena. Although the pain is real enough, the knowledge that the damage would eventually go away... diminishes the effectiveness of training and combat there. I yearned for something more." She ducks her gilded helm, energon dribbling from the cracks in her flank and torso armor. Combat: Fusillade sets her defense level to Neutral. Galvatron's expression softens slightly. "Hm. I see. So you are sorry, then. I believe you. And your point about the training room is interesting. I have to agree that there's something about it that doesn't quite live up to the real thing. Even so, it's easier to repair virtual damage." He scowls. "If it's pain you want, though--I can provide it!" He aims his cannon at Fusillade and zaps her in the shoulder. "Consider that a warning!" Combat: Galvatron sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Galvatron strikes Fusillade with his Don't Do That Again (Laser) attack! Combat: You took 19 damage. Combat: Galvatron's attack has damaged your Accuracy! A quizzical, but appropriately fearful expression crosses Fusillade's features as she sees the Creamsicle™ brought to bear upon her. Having been subject to similar disciplinging multiple times from Shockwave doesn't help matters. Fusillade treats Galvatron's relatively mild amonition with a spastic writhe as the lovetap does more damage than what Scourge managed to inflict the whole duration of their previous battle. She drops one wingblade to the ground, nearly fifteen thousand feet below. Skkkrrrrakshhh!!! "Y-yes sir! I will focus more on military objectives!!!!! And yes, quite.." she spits up energon, shoulders tight from tension, "Envigorating." Combat: Fusillade takes extra time to steady herself. Pass One of the seekers nods sagely. "That's why he's the Leader." "Aye aye," Fusillade replies, any plans for gloating messages on public record thoroughly squelched. She transforms to her beloved (and more intact) jet mode, and angles downward toward Tetrahex. Fusillade leans forward, wingblades whipping out to their full span, even as her arms lock backward in place as the rear fuselage. Her torso folds out to the become the cockpit of a space capable B-1R Lancer, ready for flight! Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer begins retreating, outrunning all pursuit. "Well, I guess that's the end of the show. Back to 'work' as it were." Having gone back to sounding indifferent as usual, Blast Off transforms and rockets off back towards orbit. This has been enough 'hanging out' with the rest of the faction for one day, considering how many times he's gotten shot or nearly so lately. The Combaticon folds up, yet at the same time expands several times in side, extending wings and engines to become a space shuttle. The seekers stop being anonymous when they separate, so Boomslang stays with the others until they go as well.